Shifting Dimensions: A Military Science Fiction Anthology

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Shifting Dimensions: A Military Science Fiction Anthology Page 6

by Justin Sloan


  But that was so much better than him actually dying. Another flood of relief struck her, and a couple tears streamed down her cheeks. She’d done it. She’d altered this reality so Jaxon would live. She still had years of fighting left ahead of her, but she knew she could survive it if she had Jaxon to fight for.

  “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered to Jaxon. “I promise you. No matter what happens, it’s going to be okay. I’m going to be right here for you.”

  He nodded just slightly, and his eyelids fluttered a little. Kaylin began rocking him again, hoping to ease him into a peaceful sleep. She knew the trauma of their escape would haunt him for a long time--probably forever. But experience had taught her that a deep sleep was the best treatment for erasing the fear and guilt of war.

  It wasn’t long before Jaxon eased into sleep, his eyes closed and his breathing slow and steady. She stared down in amazement, still struggling to believe that she got to have him in her arms again. A sudden warmth filled her, and she closed her eyes, savoring his closeness.

  Then another sensation struck: a tingling in her legs. Fear leached in her veins, but she breathed deeply, trying to ward off the sensation. But the tingling continued to spread up her body, enveloping her chest and arms in a numb, weightless feeling.

  “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No. No, no, no.”

  But the tingling didn’t stop. It only became stronger, and the sickening weightlessness struck her gut. Numb horror joined the feeling, making her stomach twist with nausea.

  The weightless sensation could only come from one thing: a time-travel device. And once it started, it couldn’t be stopped.

  Grief and panic filled her. She desperately shook Jaxon awake, and he peered up at her with sleepy brown eyes. She cupped his face in her hands and leaned close.

  “I love you, Jaxon,” she whispered. “Do you hear me? I love you more than anything in any world. And I always will.”

  He nodded a little and said, “Love you, too, Kay.” But then fear edged into his expression, and he reached up to touch her cheek. “Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice a hesitant whisper.

  She pressed her hand against his, holding it close to her cheek. She wanted so badly to lie to him, but she couldn’t. Not when he was staring up at her so earnestly.

  “I think I might need to leave you for a while,” she told him.

  Kaylin struggled to keep agony out of her voice. She’d thought this was another chance. She thought she could save Jax, that she could change reality and bring him back to life.

  But she should have known better. Fate had no interest in giving her Jaxon back. It merely wanted to torture her.

  The time-travel device was going to yank her away from this new reality, and away from her brother.

  Panic lit Jaxon’s face, and he frantically shook his head. “No. No, Kay, don’t go! You said you wouldn’t. You promised.”

  “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you, Jax. So, so damn sorry.” She tried to hold him closer, but she suddenly couldn’t feel his warmth in her arms. Instead, there was only weightlessness and a crushing black abyss.

  “I tried,” she whispered into the darkness. “I swear to God, I tried.”

  Nothing responded to her, and it made her new reality painfully clear:

  None of it had mattered.

  L.O. Addison

  L. O. ADDISON is a professional coffee addict, a digital designer, and an author of science fiction and fantasy. An explorer at heart, she spends her free time searching out the best hiking trails and cafes to be found. Her writing is represented by Laurie McLean of Fuse Literary.

  AUTHOR NOTE

  WHEN JUSTIN INVITED me to contribute to the Syndicate Wars series, I jumped on the opportunity. Justin and I first met at the San Francisco Writers Conference, where he moderated a panel on indie publishing. As a speaker on the panel, I walked away sure of two things: One, Justin knew more about indie publishing than all the speakers on the panel combined. And two, he was a cool dude who I wanted to work with again.

  FAST FORWARD A FEW MONTHS, and Justin offered to bring me in on the Syndicate Wars project. I immediately said “yes,” and we decided that I’d write a spin-off trilogy set four years after the end of the Syndicate War.

  PERSONALLY, I’m a bit of an anomaly in the world of sci-fi writers. In an industry full of highly educated and experienced men, I’m a bubbly little blond chick who’s still finishing up college. This is probably one of the main reasons my characters are always underdogs--I know first-hand how sweet it feels to overcome challenges and defy expectations.

  I THINK most readers also have personal experiences that allow them to relate to--and root for--the underdog. So I’m excited to share Kaylin’s story in my Syndicate Wars spin-off. Kaylin is the ultimate underdog, born into a crappy situation that’s only gotten worse for her over the years. But as another alien invasion threatens Earth, she has to learn how to push past these challenges to fight for survival and save the people she loves.

  I’M REALLY LOOKING FORWARD to sharing Kaylin’s story with readers in early 2018. If you want to know more about the upcoming trilogy, or if you just want to say howdy, feel free to email me at [email protected]

  ESCAPE FIRST, VENGEANCE LATER

  BY JONATHAN YANEZ

  “Yeah, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, because I am the evilest one in the valley.”

  “Can you stop saying that?”

  One minute she had been with her Marines defending the world from an alien invasion the next she had no idea where she was. The feeling made her sick to her stomach or maybe that was just the vomit already pushing its way up her throat.

  She leaned forward, releasing the contents of her stomach all over her white uniform pants legs and shoes. She couldn’t remember exactly what she had eaten, but it had been spicy.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  The pounding became louder, and with each blow, a new shudder of sharp pain echoed through her skull.

  “I’m going to murder whichever girl scout’s selling cookies at this hour,” Riot muttered to herself as she spat out the last of her stomach bile. “Ugh, what did I eat? It tastes like grandma’s casserole mixed with cat litter and hot sauce.”

  She examined her surroundings. She sat chained to a steel chair secured to the floor, the only piece of furniture in the padded room. There was just one way in, and one way out: a metal door from where the hammering appeared to be coming. One other person stood in the room with her—a nervous-looking kid holding a black baton.

  He trembled as his dark eyes shifted from the door to Riot, and back to the door.

  “You look like you’re going to need a diaper change.” Riot head-motioned toward the door. “I’m guessing you’re not too excited to have whoever’s on the other side break through?”

  At once a siren wailed and red lights flashed in the room, accompanied by a tranquil, prerecorded female voice. “Attention: It is important to remain calm. Patients are asked to remain in their rooms, or if you are in any of the common areas, please return to your room in order to avoid death or dismemberment. Wardens are asked to meet at the entrance to begin the sweep. Thank you all in advance for your compliance.”

  The kid swallowed so hard, it made his Adam’s apple bob. “There’s … there’s an insurrection in the Institute. If they get in, I’m dead. I don’t know what they’ll do to you. They’ll probably do things to us before they kill us—horrible things.”

  “Like weird experiment things?” Riot knew she’d hit the nail on the head when the kid’s gluts tightened under his snug, uniform pants. “Listen, you need to unchain me. That door’s coming down. When it does, you’ll have a better chance of survival if we put that baton in my hands, and you … you just go sit in the corner and wait, or something.”

  The kid moved to free Riot, then paused, indecision clouding his eyes.

  “Listen, Ashton … may I call you Ashton?” Ri
ot didn’t wait for an answer. “Your choice is simple: let me go, or start getting your affairs in order, because you don’t look like you’re capable of killing a flea.”

  That analogy was enough for the guard to fumble with a heavy key ring in his pocket. He unlocked Riot’s manacles, setting her free.

  Riot stood up, stretching sore muscles. The human weapon the Marine Corps had turned Riot into didn’t like being chained. With one smooth motion, Riot tore the baton away from Ashton and delivered a head butt to his nose.

  Ashton fell to the floor, both hands trying in vain to stem the flow of crimson red blood. “What … what was that for?”

  “I’m told I have anger issues.” Riot checked the baton. It wasn’t a weapon she was familiar with; it was black with three silver rings at the top and a button on the handle next to her thumb. “And your face just makes me want to punch it.”

  Rending metal tore Riot from her train of thought. The door flew open, allowing her a first glimpse of her new victims, three of them, all men who looked like they’d been in their fair share of fights.

  They all wore the same type of plain white uniform Riot was in, minus the vomit. All three men rushed into the room, each carrying a baton like Riot’s.

  “There he is.” The leader, a man with a crooked nose and a harsh overbite, pointed his baton at Ashton’s quivering form. “You didn’t think we would leave without saying our good-byes, did you, Trevor? I wish I had more time with you, but I guess we’ll have to make this quick. We have an escape to finish.”

  “Trevor?” Riot looked down at Ashton, who’d assumed a fetal position on the ground beside her. “You mean Ashton?”

  Three pairs of crazed eyes swung toward Riot.

  “Look who it is, Ray,” one of the other two men standing behind the leader said in a singsong voice. “I like her.”

  The bald-headed man who’d spoken was the craziest looking of the three. He stood hunched, with a smile on his face and Riot honestly couldn’t tell if it was sincere or disturbed.

  “She’s dangerous.” Ray looked at Riot with disgust before moving toward Ashton. “I don’t really care, Smiles. Let’s kill this boy and be gone before more wardens show up.”

  Riot stepped in front of Ashton’s whimpering form and intercepted the trio of men. With her headache still pounding, the repetitive female voice coming in over the speaker became more and more annoying as the seconds passed.

  “Listen, I’m sure Ashton’s sorry for peeing in your cereal. To be honest…” Riot looked down at Ashton’s pathetic, crying form at her feet, then lowered her voice and leaned in toward the men. “I don’t really like him, either. He’s kind of a bed wetter, if you know what I mean. But his soggy sheets aside, I’m not going to let you do kinky medieval things to him.”

  “‘Kinky medieval things’?” repeated the last man, who hadn’t yet spoken. He was by far the largest of the three, standing a head taller and weighing a good eighty pounds heavier than the other men. “Ray, I didn’t sign up for that.”

  “Shut up!” Ray roared, never losing eye contact with Riot. Blood rushed to his face. “She’s trying to confuse us. Kill her first, then Trevor.”

  “Please, someone tell me who this Trevor guy is that you keep talking about.” Riot looked around in mock confusion.

  Each man pressed the button on the handle of his baton. In unison, blue electric currents hummed across the three silver circles at the tops.

  Riot opened her mouth in surprise. “That’s awesome! This is going to be so much fun, guys.”

  They came at her at once, and Riot pressed the button on her own baton, grinning as the sizzling, blue electric currents raced over her weapon.

  Ray was in the lead. With a high, overhead swing, he brought his sizzling baton down toward Riot but she stepped easily to the side, catching Ray in the face with her own baton. As soon as her weapon made contact with the fleshy part of Ray’s cheek, he began contorting. Manic tremors rippled across his body, and the room filled with the odor of burnt hair.

  Riot was still trying to understand exactly how powerful her weapon was, when she was forced to engage the other two men. As soon as she retracted her baton from Ray’s face, he fell to the floor in a mess of spasms.

  But there was no time to examine her handiwork. Riot ducked under the baton of the large man, only to find herself face to face with Smiles. The gangly man swiped his baton at her, briefly connecting with the right side of her ribs.

  Riot was already moving out of the way, though she felt a burning electricity touch her clothes and, for the briefest moment, caress her skin. Pain from the shock took precedence over the headache still drumming in the background.

  Instead of shying away from the fight, Riot pushed herself harder. She charged at Smiles, batting away his baton with her own, while out of the corner of her eye she witnessed the giant of a man she still hadn’t put down prepare for another swing. His timing couldn’t have been better; both Smiles and the giant swung in unison at Riot.

  All Riot had to do was step out of the way, grab Smiles’ wrist just below his baton, and push him forward. The tips of the two men’s weapons touched, and both combatants were immediately relieved of their bladder control as they stood in the middle of the white, padded room, electrocuting one another.

  Riot stepped back to admire her handiwork. The two men were incapable of removing their weapons from one another; they stood with wet pants, jittering as tiny waves of blue electricity coursed over their bodies.

  “Alright, you two.” Riot lifted the chair she’d been chained to a few minutes before, and threw it hard. It crashed against Smiles’ back, finally breaking the electric current and knocking him to the floor. “Enough playtime. Ray’s going to be jealous that he passed out so soon.”

  Tendrils of smoke rose off the giant. He swayed, blinking as if trying to wake from a deep dream.

  “You’re such a big kid.” Riot walked over to him, studying his expressionless face. “What’s your secret? Carb loading? Power lifting? CrossFit? Don’t worry about answering me now. We’ll talk when you get up.”

  For the briefest second before Riot’s fist made contact with his face, confusion flashed over it. The next minute, he crashed to the floor along with his comrades.

  “Halt!” An unfamiliar voice filled the room. “Stop right there. Drop your weapon.”

  Riot turned to the doorway, where two men in grey uniforms matching Ashton’s pointed handguns at her. At least, they looked like handguns. They were yellow, with long, thick, square barrels.

  “Wow, wow, wow, take it easy, muchachos. I’m the good girl, here.” Riot raised her hands, still holding on to the electric baton. She looked over to where Ashton was regaining his feet and staring at the three fallen men in wonder. “Tell them, Ashton.”

  But Riot made the mistake of pointing with the hand that still held the electric baton as she urged Ashton to tell the two guards that she’d saved him.

  Pfft! Pfft!

  “Did somebody just fart?” Riot said, feeling twin stings on the right side of her neck. Her vision began to blur, and she dropped the baton, reaching for her neck. She pulled away one of the silver darts from her skin. “You dart roofied me?”

  The last thing Riot remembered was the sound her head made as she face-planted.

  FOR THE SECOND time in recent memory, Riot woke with her head pounding a relentless beat. This time when she woke, though, she wasn’t tied down. Instead, Riot sat in a doctor’s office, carpet underfoot, a desk in front of her, and an elderly man in a white coat and glasses looking at her with a smile.

  “There she is. How’re you feeling?” The doctor picked up a pen. His hand hovered over a notepad, ready to document her answer.

  Riot lifted a hand to her throat. She massaged the two sore spots where the darts had found their mark. “Listen, I’m not sure what’s going on or how I even got here, but I need to get back to my CO and report in, or she’s going to be pissed.”

  “Hmm
… I see.” The doctor pressed his pen to the paper. “Still Sergeant Riot in the Marine Corps?”

  “Hell yeah I’m still in the Marine Corps. I signed up to be one of the best so that when the killing gets real I’ll be ready, surrounded by the toughest sons and daughters of guns, this or any other world has ever seen. Wait a minute, what do you mean ‘still’?”

  “We’ve been over this.”

  “Well, let’s go over it one more time.”

  “Alright. What’s the last thing you remember?” The doctor continued to take notes as he spoke. “Try to remain calm.”

  “Yeah, I woke up in a room where three maniacs tried to jump me. I saved Ashton, before I was roofied by a pair of darts.” Riot frowned, thinking even further back. “I’m a Marine in the Corps. There’s an alien invasion taking place on Earth. I need to get back to them.”

  “I understand how confusing this is for you.” The doctor placed his pen onto the table and folded his hands. “There was an escape attempt at the Institute, and yes, you did save Warden Trevor from Ray and his two associates. I want to personally thank you for that, by the way. That’s why you’ll notice you’re not chained down right now. I believe good behavior deserves a fair reward in return.”

  “Okay.” Riot leaned forward in her chair. “But before that happened, how did I get here in the first place? One minute, I’m fighting aliens; and the next, I’m here.”

  “You have to promise me you’ll remain calm.” The doctor opened a drawer and pulled out a file, along with a silver mirror. “In the past when we’ve had this conversation, you haven’t … been receptive to the truth.”

  Frustration began to take over, and Riot could feel her pulse quicken, her headache matching the beat of her heart.

  “Look into the mirror.” The doctor pushed the silver-handled mirror toward her. “It’s helped in the past.”

  “Are you trying to piss me off?” Riot couldn’t hold back any longer. Fear mixed with her frustration as she snatched the mirror off the wooden desk. “Enough with these weird mind games. Just tell me.”

 

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